Ah, asparagus, those harbingers of spring that rise obediently with the season and leave us wondering if anyone else can smell that.

As soon as 15 minutes after consumption, sulfuric compounds in the spears aromatically announce themselves through our wee-wee.

Early investigators of this phenomenon thought that genetics had divided the world into stinkers and non-stinkers--like tongue-rollers and non-tongue-rollers.

But in the 1980s, several studies (of which I'm glad not to have been a part), found that, indeed, everyone’s urine stinks post-asparagus--it’s just that only a minority percentage of us can smell it.

I'll never complain.

With a speedy snap of their woody ends, a standard wardrobing of olive oil, salt, and pepper, and a ten minute roast at 400 degrees, you'll have spears that take to toasted breadcrumbs and lemon zest like fuzzy-bummed bumble bees do to pollen.

And since no one but yourself should ever bear witness to any aftereffects, you'll still come up smelling like a rose.